


One More Chance XXIV

by DancingHare



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 05:06:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13474296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingHare/pseuds/DancingHare
Summary: Vajarra learns more about her former student.





	One More Chance XXIV

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published August 27, 2008

The letter had been waiting for her at the Temple when she returned, sealed and wrapped primly with a red ribbon. Vajarra had to admire the archivist’s efficiency, she hadn’t expected him to get back to her for several weeks, if at all. He could just as well have forgotten about it, but perhaps he’d been intrigued by the puzzle himself. It was thick, she could feel the weight of it through the paper envelope, traced with delicate patterns. And say what one will about the sin’dorei, Vajarra couldn’t help but marvel at the swift, neat penmanship.

Brother Sunsorrow had copied out every bit of information that he could find, it seemed, covering the front and back of several pages of parchment. She certainly hadn’t expected him to be so thorough. There was some general information about his family; the Dawnstrike clan was numerous, the majority having served beneath Prince Kael’thas at one point or another. So Vassanta had not lied about that. Vajarra had known that, deep down, but it still didn’t matter. She frowned, turning the first page over. There were records from his schooling, and Vajarra felt a bit like she was intruding into some private place. Did they keep such records at the temple? She didn’t think they did, but she wondered if someone might come and read the entirety of her life in neat little script on fancy paper. Istahn had enrolled in what appeared to be some sort of military academy, and did well enough to earn some commendations. Then there it was, in stark black ink: Led a unit of Sunhawk scouts to secure Bloodmyst Isle, and maintain the Sun Gate. She set the page down, aware of her hand’s trembling. He’d been responsible for the death of countless draenei, whether directly or by those beneath his command. Those fortunate enough to survive the initial impact had been hunted by the Sunhawk scouts at every turn. She had to believe that he regretted it now, otherwise why would he have come to her? If she ever got the chance, she would be certain to ask him, if only to put her own worries to rest.

After the Sun Gate was destroyed, it seemed that Istahn had renounced his ties to Kael’thas, and rejoined his brethren in Silvermoon city. There were a few records of “incidents” with the guards, but he hadn’t been arrested. No record of any marriages and, as the archivist wrote, underlined for emphasis: No record of death.

It didn’t relieve her worries any, rather it increased them. If the city had no record of his death, it meant that his body was still out there, somewhere. She couldn’t go back, it would be impossible to search every inch of the vast, dark forest, and by now the animals… Vajarra shook her head, not wanting to imagine it. Gathering up the pages, she tucked them back into the envelope that smelled faintly of incense, and descended the ramp toward the chamber where A’dal and the portals awaited. She needed to go to Stormwind, while you could buy anything imaginable in Shattrath, the human city still had the nicest candles. Besides, she thought she might stop at the Library for a time, to read up on some high elf history.

When she stepped into the market square, she saw a ghost. Or that is what she thought at first, staring in disbelief at the Draenei warrior before her. Aziron, the grim and merciless, who had watched over her in Varul’s absence, had never returned from battle. Yet here he was, placidly looking over the axes laid out on the merchant’s table.

“You aren’t dead.” It was the first thing that came to mind, and she couldn’t help from speaking it aloud.

He wore his helm, even here in the city, as he always did. But she knew him well enough to know what expression he was making. “No. Did you think I was?”

No hello, no how are you, but she couldn’t be surprised. That had never been his way. She frowned at him, her brow furrowed. “Yes, of course I did! You never came back! You could have told me–”

Aziron had lifted an axe from the table and was inspecting its gleaming edge with close scrutiny. “Oh. I thought my father would have.”

She stared at him for a moment. Had he always been so impassive? Didn’t he feel badly about abandoning her like that — had he even missed her at all? “He didn’t, I returned to the Temple,” she said, crossing her arms close over herself. “I couldn’t stay there alone.”

He nodded, laying the axe back down again. Apparently it did not pass his inspection. “Understandable.” Vajarra watched him anxiously, hoping he might explain himself. Instead, he picked up his sword that had been leaning against the table, tying the scabbard onto his belt. “I must go now, I am needed at the front.”

“What? You’re leaving again?” Vajarra couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He paused to give her a curious glance and nodded before he turned toward the gryphon roost. She wanted to yell after him, but what good would that do? She crouched at the curb, fighting to keep the tears from escaping. Why did everyone have to leave? They didn’t even seem to care that she was left behind, lost and alone. Varul, now Aziron… Vajarra felt the letter inside of her robe. There was a chance that Istahn could come back, wasn’t there? His body had never been found. She’d thought both Varul and Aziron were dead, yet both came back later. It was small and cold comfort, but right now it was all she had, and she seized it eagerly.


End file.
